


there she goes/there she goes again/chasing through my brain

by navience



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, that's it. just ?? 1k words of nikolai simping real hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27536482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navience/pseuds/navience
Summary: POV: you watch nikolai simp over zoya in real time
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	there she goes/there she goes again/chasing through my brain

**Author's Note:**

> men aren't real but they are for the purpose of this fic also i just wanna say that nikolai gets pegged

“Don’t destroy the house while I’m gone, okay?” Zoya says, and where it might have been affectionate and caring with anyone else, she grips his chin and digs her nails in and makes him look her right in her clear blue eyes, which is just unfair, because he’d agree to anything she said if they were making sweet, sweet prolonged eye contact while she said it.

“I won’t,” he promises. “Aren’t you worried about the company?”

“No.” She lets go of his chin, leaning on her suitcase handle with both hands. “I trust you with billions of dollars. I do not trust you with a frying pan and a fire.”

“Fair enough,” he grins, and in the blinding glare of his ridiculously white teeth she can’t help but roll her eyes and offer him a small, affectionate smile. 

“I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll miss you, darling Zoya.” She flicks his forehead just before she pulls him down to kiss her, and their words might be playful and lighthearted but her touch is heavy with meaning.  _ I’ll miss you, I love you. _

He waves as she walks away across the airport, and makes his jaunty way in the opposite direction, away from her.

The first week isn’t so hard. It’s hardly the first time they’ve been away from each other; Nikolai goes about his daily life and, well, it’d be a lie to say he never thinks about her, but isn’t that the norm for him? He thinks about her as he walks to his favorite coffee shop, just down the block from the office—

_ “Nikolai!” He grinned unrepentantly and lifted her cup of fresh coffee to his lips, swallowing with relish. “Nikolai.” _

_ He took another long sip. _

_ “Take another, I dare you,” she said, and he felt all soft and gooey inside at the stormy look in her eyes. _

_ He did. She watched intently, and in the split second after he lowered the cup and before he’d swallowed, she kissed him, slanting her mouth over his and tasting the hot coffee on his tongue. _

_ He spluttered and, oh, God, it went everywhere. _

_ He was still coughing up bean juice a few moments later, trying to frantically mop up the liquid on the table and the chairs and the floor, when he looked at her and his heart stopped. _

_ Zoya, who had snatched the cup from him while he was distracted, smirked into her coffee, and even though there were strands of hair falling into her face and brown stains dripping over her white blouse, she was breathtaking. _

It’s a month before he starts to miss her, really miss her, because they call almost every night so she can rant about her work day and he about his. She chides him for playing pranks on the company seniors and then helps him work out new ideas, and they always say  _ I love you, goodnight _ before they hang up. Lately, it’s started sounding a little sad.

_ “No, I just don’t see why you have to be so nitpicky! Would it kill you to act like you cared?” He regretted it as soon as he said it— yelled it, really. The tension between them cracked and fell down around their feet, and he could see that her temper had dropped with his. Zoya lost her snarl, instead retreating into an icy shell and shuttering her eyes. _

_ “Fine. I think we need to take a break from this,” she gestured between them. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay,” she said, her back ramrod straight. _

_ “Zoya, no,” he said. “I’m sorry— I don’t want us to go to sleep angry. I know you’re still mad, and I am too, I guess, but,” she opened her mouth, a little life returning to her features. “But, please wait, I don’t think we’re gonna last this out if we break now. And I really, I really want us to last.” _

_ She nodded, her jaw still tight, and made her way into his arms— open, always open for her.  _

_ He stroked her inky hair, brushed his fingers along her skin, and tried to memorize the feeling for some terrible future day when he couldn’t have it for real. _

Three months, and he’s doing the laundry when he sees it— the only hoodie Zoya owns. He seizes on it, sniffs it, and oh, it does smell like her, an olfactory comfort he’d almost forgotten. It’s been buried at the bottom of the closet, he guesses, and he squints at it. Grease stains?

_ “Four eggs? That doesn’t seem right,” Nikolai mused. “Dear Zoya, look.” _

_ “You have to stop calling me that,” she grumbled and leaned over the recipe, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. “It’s cute. I hate cute.” _

_ “You are cute.” _

_ “I will crack an egg on your head.” _

_ “You’re adorable,” he crooned, putting his hands on her waist and spinning her so he’s leaning over her leaning over the table. “Admit it, darling. Adorable.” She swiped a thumb over his cheekbone, leaving a smear of flour. His breath stilled as he waited for her next move, for her to reverse their positions or kiss him hard or knee him in the groin. _

_ She hopped up on the table, legs on either side of his waist, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then another, a little off-center, and then one on his brow, on each eyelid, all over his cheeks. By the time she finished, he was looking at her with melted hazel eyes, hot from more than just the oven that had been running for four hours by then. _

_ “You’re blushing,” she teased.  _

_ “You are a demon,” he says, lifting her up and swinging her around. Her legs came up to lock around him naturally, her arms on his shoulders.  _

_ “That’s what I like to hear,” and her next words nearly made him drop her. “But I’m your demon.” _

Six months, and it’s impossible to have a conversation with Nikolai without him bringing up his right-hand woman. Again, it was difficult before, but the seniors are seriously considering calling her home early so he’ll shut the fuck up. Nikolai, for his part, drifts through the days fairly happily, especially now that they’re in the home stretch. He does have a life outside of her, he does, but he’s looking forward so much to the day he gets home and is greeted with his girlfriend’s gripes instead of silence.

He taps his foot impatiently, waiting outside the baggage claim. An old woman shoots him a look. He shifts to the other foot. She shoots him another look. He spreads his hands wide, ready to charm her socks off, and then his words die in his throat. 

It’s her, wrapped in a blue winter coat, her hair done up with a ribbon. Fireworks go off in Nikolai’s ribcage, shooting sparks and whistles and all sorts of brightly-colored explosives up every nerve in his body. His feet move of his own accord, and then she’s  _ there _ , in his arms, where she belongs. He presses his forehead to hers and wraps his arms around her waist and swings her around, just because he knows it embarrasses her.

“My ruthless Zoya, you don’t know what you do to me,” he murmurs in her ear when he sets her down. 

She smiles, fully, unabashedly at him, her eyes roving up and down his body because she’s  _ missed _ him, she’s missed him too, so much. Her gaze catches on the ill-fitting top he’s wearing, and—

“Are you wearing my sweatshirt?”


End file.
